Born to Die
by ZombieRider
Summary: Brittany and Santana take their place in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Trigger warning: character deaths.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: The 74th Hunger Games with Brittany and Santana substituted in as Cato and Clove.**

Santana tilted her head back and parted her lips slightly, as if she could taste the wind. In her mind, she really can. The acrid taste of blood slipped into her mouth and invigorated her. It sent adrenaline shooting through her system and made her take a shaky breath. She slid her fingers over the edge of her knife, almost as if in prayer, and then looked over her shoulder for a flash of gold. She beckoned slightly with her head for Brittany to join her.

It was time to hunt.

* * *

District 2 tended to view the law against training tributes as merely a suggestion. The Capitol never seemed to acknowledge the special academies the wealthier districts set up to mold their children into merciless predators. Maybe they turn their heads because the Careers make for good TV.

This year is different. Usually two children, a boy and a girl, are selected and placed in a training school. They live there until they are eighteen and are able to take their place in that year's Games. The two children are trained and coached and shaped until they stop resembling tributes and start looking like victors. Except, this year is different.

Brittany stood slightly apart from the argument. She let the heated words roll over her head and off of her back and watched instead. Her father gestured angrily in her direction and stepped closer to the man in the suit, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss.

Brittany frowned and looked away. She didn't understand why her father was yelling at the man from the training academy, but she recognized the tone of his voice and knew from experience that she should get out of its range.

As she slipped out of the building, she saw a flash of dark hair and stopped. A small girl, much smaller than Brittany, slouched against the wall of the building. She has the same hair color and skin tone of the other man her father is arguing with, the one not from the academy. She saw Brittany staring and scowled, which caused her smooth features to immediately shift into sharp, dangerous ones.

Brittany was so startled she took a step back and stumbled over a loose flagstone on the sidewalk. She quickly righted herself and looked fearfully over her shoulder for her father. She is supposed to be lithe and graceful; a predator in training, not a stupid kid who trips over her own feet. She would never be accepted into the academy if the man in the suit saw that.

The other girl narrowed her eyes at Brittany and stepped forward. "They're going to choose me, you know." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows; issuing a challenge.

The shock of hearing her voice flustered Brittany and she fumbled for a reply.

"I'm, uh, bigger than you. And stronger." As soon as the words left her mouth, she winced. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

The girl circled Brittany like one of the Capitol's wildcat mutts as she prodded at Brittany's lanky limbs and slowly forming adolescent muscles. Her touch sent flames arcing across Brittany's skin and she jerked away with a gasp.

The girl circled once more and then closed in, her mouth opening in what was sure to be an insult, but before she could release it, Brittany's father and the rest of the men strode out of the building doors.

She studied their faces, trying to decipher what her future holds. The man who matches Santana had a look of almost boredom on his weathered face. Her father's jaw is tight, but the anger from before is absent. The man in the suit walked over to where Brittany and the girl stood at attention. He knelt before them and looked first at Santana, then at Brittany.

Brittany took the opportunity to really look at him. He's familiar, of course. He'd been watching Brittany ever since she can remember. He's there when her father has her lifting weights or running and he watches her practice with the wooden sword her father gave her. Now is the first time she really paid attention to him, though. His face is smooth and his hair is buzzed down almost to his scalp. Brittany looked into his blank eyes, needing him to nod, smile, anything.

He looked at them so long that Brittany's stomach tied itself in knots. _Please_.

After what seemed like an eternity, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a badge. It was clear, with District 2's insignia emblazoned on it, along with the name of the training academy.

It doesn't hit Brittany that there are two badges until she heard the girl's breath leave her in a giant woosh. The girl lunged forward and snatched her badge; quick as though he might take them back if she waited too long.

Brittany chanced a glance at her father before she took her own. She expected to see pride on his face, or even happiness, but all she got was an impatient nod ordering her to take the badge.

As the man walked away he pulled out a phone. Brittany heard him say, "They have years to train. One's abilities will eventually surpass the other's, and we'll weed the weaker one out. No problem."

Brittany stared down at the piece of plastic in her hands. Her fingers have already smeared across the surface and left smudgy tracks. She knew this card was the pass to everything her family wanted, and she realized that it might have an expiration date. A surge of anger rose in her chest and she whipped around to face the girl with her teeth pulled back in a snarl.

Brittany doesn't know what she was going to say, because the girl sticks out her hand and introduces herself before she can speak. She doesn't even flinch at the look on Brittany's face.

"I'm Santana." Her face was unreadable, but Brittany could see that her eyes were calculating. They were also such a rich shade of brown that they made Brittany's breath catch. Without thinking, without understanding why, Brittany was compelled to reach out and clasp the girl's, _Santana's_, offered hand.

As the man Brittany assumed to be Santana's father put a heavy hand on her shoulder and guided her away, Brittany swore the girl smiled at her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I changed a few things in chapter one, most notably the tense the story is written in. I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote that first chapter, but it's all fixed now, so enjoy!**

* * *

The man in the suit is called William. Nobody told Santana his last name and she doesn't ask. She clutched her badge in her tiny fist (she hasn't let go of it since she took it from William days before) and sneaked a glance at Brittany. She had a nervous energy to her movements as she walked alongside Santana and she gnawed uneasily on her lip. As Santana watched, her face changed and slipped beneath a mask of careful blankness and her shoulders set back in a stiff, soldier-like posture. Instead of the nervous twelve year old she was a second ago, she had transformed into someone unreadable and unfazed. Santana scowled. She didn't need to hide behind a mask; she wasn't scared.

As William slipped his own badge into the reader on the door of the Academy, her hand twitched toward the waistband of her pants where her knife usually waited. Sometimes, when Santana's head got too quiet, it called to her and she found herself spinning it across her fingertips, mesmerized by the sheen of the sun on its blade and having no memory of taking it out. Not today, though. All her weapons and personal belongings were confiscated before she left her house. They weren't even allowed to bring clothes; the Academy would provide for all their needs, she was told.

A slight touch on her shoulder jolted her into the present and she whipped her head around to glare at Brittany. Brittany held up her hands in a silent surrender and tipped her head towards the door; signaling to Santana that it was time to move. Santana snorted and shouldered her way past Brittany to follow William inside.

The building was huge, with great swooping ceilings, and made almost entirely of huge slabs of stone. The entryway slipped seamlessly into a wider room with a staircase and an elevator situated at one end. William swiftly herded them into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor.

"Your sleeping quarters are on level three. Dining is on level two and training on the ground level or outside on the drill fields."

The elevator rumbled slightly as it rose and Santana glanced at Brittany again to try and take her mind off of her possible death by malfunctioning elevator. She still held her soldier-pose and stared straight ahead, but Santana could see the muscles in her arm tense when the elevator gave a particularly loud grumble. When the doors opened, William took off down a hallway leading to the left without waiting for them. A mirror copy of the hallway swung off to the right on the other side of the room. They passed six doors before he stopped at the very last one. It was grey and undecorated, just like everything else in the building. William gestured to their badges and said, "Only you two can get into your room, you just have to swipe your badge and it'll open."

Santana frowned at him in confusion. "Wait, did you say _our_ room? We have to share?" She could feel her forehead wrinkling in disgust. The one thing about this place she had been looking was finally having a bed to herself, and now she had to share a room with the girl she was competing against for the biggest prize of her life?

William shrugged and said, "We have rooms for one boy trainee and one girl trainee ages twelve to eighteen. Until one of you proves herself over the other, you are essentially one person in the eyes of the Academy. You will share the same dormitory and have identical schedules. We cannot afford to waste time tailoring things to your specific needs." His voice had started out with the indifferent tone Santana had grown used to, but by the end it had morphed into a sneer. She guessed that someone had gotten chewed out by a higher up for his decision to take on two girl trainees this year. Whatever. It wasn't her problem if William was butt hurt about it.

"Well, thanks, Will. We appreciate your generous hospitality," Santana said with an adept sarcasm rarely seen in twelve year olds. She knew she probably shouldn't mess with William, her place at the Academy was tenuous at best, but knowing a rule was a far cry from actually following it, and she'd had a long, stressful day. She'd been extracted from her home, packed onto one of the quarry trains, and driven halfway across the district, so excuse her if she wasn't going to let some pouty Capitol agent walk all over her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and shoved her badge into the door's scanner. It beeped softly and Santana heard the tumblers gently fall into place as the door cracked open.

"Breakfast is at six a.m. tomorrow. Training immediately after. Don't be late," William said stiffly before he turned and strode back down the hall.

"Sheesh, what is that guy, part caveman?" Santana snarked as she swung open the door to her new room. It was sparsely furnished but had a fairly large window that looked out over the drill fields. Brittany crossed the room and peered out it, smiling softly. Her stiff pose had dropped as soon as William had turned his back and she was moving like she had the first time Santana saw her; all long-limbed and gangly like a puppy that hadn't quite grown into its new body yet. Brittany turned from the window and cocked an eyebrow at Santana. "What are you looking at?"

She hadn't said it in an accusing tone at all, but it immediately set Santana on the defensive. Unfortunately, she was a bit disgruntled from being caught staring and accidentally blurted out the truth, something she wasn't used to sharing. "You. You're weird. It's like you're two different people."

Instead of answering right away, Brittany stood with her hands tucked into her pockets and absorbed her statement for a few moments, clearly giving it some serious thought, and then nodded. "The people here expect me to be strong, like a real tribute. I'll give them what they want, I guess. That's not the real me, anyway, so maybe if bad stuff happens to that me, it won't hurt this me so much. Does that make sense?"

"Not really." Santana rolled her eyes and flopped down on one of the beds. At least there were two of them; even if she didn't get her own room, she did finally get her own bed. She rolled on her side and realized that she could see the stars out of the top corner of the window. Instead of being comforting, they just reminded her how far away from her old life she had come in just one day. There were no stars at her house, just light pollution and smog. Santana watched as Brittany carefully pulled the covers back on her own bed and slipped off her shoes before climbing in. Santana wasn't sure what to think about Brittany just yet. She was either really smart or just plain crazy, and Santana didn't know quite how she was going to handle her. She had planned on isolating herself from the strange girl and giving all her time over to training, but something about the girl intrigued her. Maybe it would be more useful to befriend her and ferret out her weaknesses so she could exploit them when the time came. Santana tugged the covers over her head and tried without success to fall asleep. Or maybe she was just in a strange new place and kind of lonely and a friend wouldn't hurt anything, would it?

After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, Santana finally surrendered and sat up.

"Brittany, are you awake?" She hissed quietly.

She saw a shadowy lump sit up across the room and a tousled blonde head poked out of the covers. "Mmhm. What's the matter?"

"I can't sleep."

"How come? We gotta be up early tomorrow, you know." Her voice was soft and slightly slurred from sleep. Santana sighed to herself and decided to tell the truth for the second time that day.

"I-I'm used to being with all my brothers and sisters. It's weird by myself."

"Ok," Brittany said simply, and climbed out of her bed. She crossed over to the other side of it and shoved. The bed frame scraped softly across the stone floor as Brittany pushed it across the room until it bumped up next to Santana's. She scrambled back into her bed and snuggled back down into her blanket before rolling over to face Santana. Her face was close enough that Santana could feel her breath across her cheeks.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Brittany's warmth quickly seeped into Santana and she hesitantly inched closer, needing the contact.

"Um, five, not counting me. That's why I'm here in the first place, actually. Too many mouths to feed and my mom hoping for a miracle."

Brittany gently brushed Santana's with her own and whispered back, "You weren't born for this?"

Santana frowned. She could still remember the night _this_ had even been mentioned.

_Santana could see the full moon of her mother's swollen belly through the crack in the door. Her father was stumbling around the room; she could hear the clatter of overturned cutlery and the crash of broken dishes. The door swung open and cracked against the wall; Santana's littlest brother whimpered and tucked his head tighter into her shoulder. The rest of her siblings were curled up behind her on the threadbare sheets. Without a word, her father yanked her up by the elbow and dragged her back out into the kitchen. Her mother put out a hand and he staggered to a stop. Santana could smell the alcohol on his clothes._

"_Honey, stop. Please, what are you doing?" Her mother spoke in her calm, soothing voice; the one she used for scraped knees and to diffuse her siblings' quarrels. Santana's father was unaffected, however, and he shook her roughly and spat, "I'm taking her down to the Skin Market. The money's gone, Maribel, we've got nothing left to feed the kids with."_

_Santana's mom paled and said, "No. She's just a child. Maybe if you didn't drink away what little you do make-"_

"_What little_ I_ make? I have a job, what's your excuse? You're unemployed, the rent's due, the little ones are starving, and she's the oldest. Someone will pay good money for her. I've no choice, Maribel."_

_Her mother rose up to her full height, which wasn't very much at all, and wrestled Santana's elbow away from her husband. "There's always a choice. She'll be twelve in a few month, we could contact the Academy and enroll her."_

_Her father scoffed and said, "Like they'd take her. She's small; she can't fight. She's worthless."_

_The rest of her mother's protests and her father's drunken insults were drowned out by the roaring in Santana's ears. Worthless. The word flew like an arrow from her father's mouth and pierced deeply into her chest. She felt her mind slip away and retreat from her numb body. She lifted her hands and stared at them, but she could feel nothing, hear nothing but the echoes of her heartbeat rebounding against her skull. The word was like a sedative creeping along her limbs. Before long, she was completely numb. _

_She tuned in long enough to hear her mother recount her stone throwing abilities and her father finally, _finally_, relent and agree to teach her to throw knives in hopes the Academy would take her, but it didn't really matter anymore. She was worthless, after all. _

"That's horrible," Brittany said softly. She tangled her fingers in Santana's and squeezed. "You're not worthless, Santana. You've got something, you'd have to, to get this far."

Santana shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it anymore; it hurt enough just to think about it. Well, it would hurt if she could feel anything. The numbness still lurked in her bones, ready to swallow her up at a moment's notice. She slid a little farther down on the bed and tucked her head into Brittany's collarbone so she didn't have to look in her in the eye anymore and changed the subject.

"What did you mean about what you said before? That you were born for this?"

Brittany shrugged and said lightly, "Well, neither of my parents came from a wealthy family and that's all they've ever wanted: to have money and for people to know who they are. I think they feel like the more people that know their names, the more real they are. It doesn't really make sense, I mean, everyone's here just the same, no matter how famous they are, but I guess it's important to them. Having a Victor in the family would change everything, so they had me. I was born to be in these games; I've been training my whole life."

They both needed this. Santana squirmed uncomfortably, but then made up her mind. She needed it more. She didn't have anything to go home to and only the arena to look forward to. She was going to win. There was no other option.

"Goodnight, San."

Santana clamped down on her whimper before it could escape and exhaled shakily.

"Goodnight."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Happy Birthday to one of my oldest friends. I know that I suck and that this story was supposed to be done for your birthday a YEAR AGO and it's still not done now... I have no excuses. But still, it's kind of become my baby. My strange, badly written baby. Hope you like this chapter (seriously, Happy Birthday!). Also, sorry for typos, I have no beta!**

* * *

As Brittany walked, she let her fingertips trail over the stony walls that were getting to be as familiar to her as the walls in the house where she had grown up.

She had been at the Academy for almost two years now. Her fourteenth birthday had come and gone without notice from anyone. The tributes from down the hall, the two that were eighteen now, had just been hauled off to the Reaping ceremony. Brittany didn't even know their names.

She stepped into the elevator and watched the lights as they signaled her descent. The grumbling of the elevator didn't even register anymore. As the doors began to open Brittany slipped on her Tribute face, as Santana had christened it. Shoulders back, chin up. Fingers curled into loose fists. Nothing could touch Tribute Brittany. Real Brittany flinched at the sound of flesh hitting flesh and cringed away from the harsh commands of the trainers. But when she was Tribute Brittany, her sword was an extension of her arm, her fingers danced the fractions between life and death with ease; her hands automatically knew how to hurt people. Real Brittany hated tribute Brittany. Tribute Brittany hated everyone.

Except Santana. No part of Brittany could ever hate Santana.

Every night, Brittany would slide her bed over until it bumped up against Santana's and they would curl up and whisper underneath the covers; sometimes they would talk straight through the night. They dreamed of the ivy-covered Victor houses, all in a row. Santana traced them out along Brittany's arm, one after another, the ivy crawling up her shoulder and then down until it tickled at her belly.

"This one's ours," Santana would whisper, her fingertip tapping gently on the skin over Brittany's heart.

Brittany's dad told her that Santana was her first opponent in the Hunger Games; only Brittany had to beat her before she even stepped onto her metal plate. He told her to be merciless. Brittany's skin still crawled when she remembered him whispering into her ear as she stepped onto the quarry train, "Kill her if you have to." And then, the unspoken, _You were born for this, Brittany_.

For the first time in her short life, Brittany deliberately disobeyed her father. She knew exactly what she was doing that first night when her bed scraped across the floor. Brittany couldn't pinpoint exactly why she was drawn to Santana, but ever since that first day, when Santana's touch set skin on fire, Brittany had instinctually known she could never hurt her.

Brittany didn't know what she'd done to make Santana like her, but the unpredictable girl had fiercely attached herself to Brittany's side, so instead of plotting to get rid of Santana, Brittany began to think of her as a friend. And, every night, Brittany would let Santana trace out fantasies of winning the Games together across her skin. She dreamt of their ivy house, where just the two of them lived.

The sounds of the training room echoed through the open door into the hallway where Brittany stood, preparing herself. Shoulders back, chin up.

The trainer had her sparring with a wooden sword today. She was on probation after she cut an older tribute's arm down to the bone in her last session. Trainees were precious objects here; the Academy put a lot of time and money into them and they didn't take kindly to Brittany damaging them. The wooden sword was weighted just like her real sword, and inside of her, the real Brittany relaxed a little. No killing with a wooden sword.

She twirled the sword with ease and threw herself into the session. Some primal part of her enjoyed the feeling of her muscles straining and flexing as her sword cracked against the other tribute's. Brittany didn't know who it was; she erased their features before every fight. Swinging killing blows at faceless opponents was much easier than trying to hurt a real person.

The older tribute caught Brittany's sword with her own and stepped in close. Brittany allowed their grips to lock and she stared into the other girl's hostile eyes before shoving her, hard, onto her backside. She waivered for not even a second before swinging her sword in a faux killing blow, but it gave the tribute enough time to roll away from the wooden blade and scramble back to her feet.

"Damnit, Pierce! Do you want to get kicked out? Hesitate one more time and I'll send your ass back home myself!" Her trainer's name was Sue, but she made the tributes refer to her as Sir. Real Brittany would've flinched away but Tribute Brittany gave a curt nod and stepped back into her fighting stance.

Every once in awhile, she'd catch a glimpse of Santana as she spun and dodged. The other girl was in the corner, flinging knife after knife at targets that popped up and down so fast that Brittany doubted she could even count them, much less hit them. But Santana was all sharp lines and quick movements and her knives caught the glint of the fluorescent lights as they thudded into targets over and over. Head, _thud_. Solar plexus, _thud_. Heart, _thud_.

* * *

The hot water pounded down onto Brittany's shoulders as she sighed and let her forehead drop against the wall of the shower. The cinderblocks were rough, but cool; a nice contrast from the steaming water. Brittany slowly shook her head from side to side and tried to concentrate on the feel of the stone grabbing at her skin.

She had messed up today. Even the tiniest slip, the smallest mistake, could send her home. She and Santana could dream all they wanted, but there was no way the Academy was going to let them both stay for much longer. And if they chose Santana over her… Brittany had no purpose. She didn't even want to think of what her dad would do if she came home empty-handed. Her future was a black hole, no matter what happened, and Brittany had to struggle to choke down a sob.

It was getting harder and harder to slip back and forth between Tribute Brittany and Real Brittany. The lines were starting to blur and that scared Brittany to death. She couldn't see the good in people like she used to. She wasn't even sure if it was there in the first place. She was so angry, all the time, and more often then not nowadays, her hands were permanently balled into fists. She ached to use her strength, her skills, to hurt people. Brittany wanted to exercise the only power- the only control- she possessed.

Real Brittany was no longer her default setting. She shifted in and out of her masks so often now that Brittany wasn't sure if there was a person inside of her at all, and if there was, Brittany didn't know if she wanted to force that part of her away for good or cling to the last untarnished bits and pieces of who she used to be.

Another sob got stuck in her throat and she finally had to let it explode out of her, or stop breathing all together, and she wasn't ready for that. Not quite yet.

"Britt?"

Santana's voice calls her out of the dark place she had been circling. The water that had been so hot was now like ice snaking its way down her back. Brittany had no idea how long she'd been standing there. Santana sounded like she was in the next shower stall down as her voice called out again, "Is that you, Britt? Are you okay?"

Brittany didn't even try to answer. She felt paralyzed, like her forehead was glued to the wall. She heard the water turn off in Santana's stall and wet feet padding over. Santana jiggled Brittany's stall door until the lock popped open; a trick they had learned their first month at the Academy.

"Christ, B! This water's freezing, how long have you been in here?"

Brittany just stood there, silent, until she saw Santana's arm reach around her and turn the water off. Then she tucked a threadbare grey towel, standard issue at the Academy, around Brittany's shoulders and tugged her away from the wall.

"Bad day, huh?" Santana nudged Brittany's shoulder with her chin, trying to make her meet her eyes. Finally, Brittany turned towards Santana, and as soon as she took in her face, the numbness started to seep out of her.

She gave a halfhearted, sheepish smile and mumbled, "Sorry. Got stuck for a while."

Santana smirked and gently punched her shoulder. "Your training ended almost two hours ago, Britt. I'd say that definitely counts as awhile."

"No big deal." Brittany sidestepped Santana and headed to the lockers. She shuffled into her clothes as Santana side-eyed her, probably trying to decide whether to pursue the matter or just let it drop. Thankfully, Santana seemed to decide on the latter option and laced her fingers through Brittany's as they walked towards the cafeteria.

Brittany swung their hands slowly between them, still quiet from her episode in the shower. Santana squirmed, uncomfortable with the silence, until she finally asked, "So do you think you'll fight Puckerman tomorrow? You totally kicked Quinn's ass today in that bout, and Kurt's arm is still messed up. Sue's gotta be itching to move you up with the big boys."

Brittany shrugged. "I don't understand why she can't just let me fight Finn."

Santana scoffed at the mention of the male tribute that would be partnered with one of them when it was their turn for the Games.

"Because you kicked his ass the first week we got here. He's big but he's got nothin' going at all. "

Now it was Brittany's turn to squirm. Finally, she choked out what had been scratching at the back of her mind all day, "San, they're going to choose soon. We have to do something."

Santana stopped dead in her tracks and dropped Brittany's hand. For a second, Brittany thought she was angry, but when Santana met her eyes, Brittany saw fear reflecting back at her.

"I know."


End file.
